


I Like Us Better When We're Wasted

by musiclily88, sweet_disposition



Series: You Wanted My Heart But I Just Liked Your Tattoos [1]
Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Asshole Liam Payne, Asshole Zayn Malik, Biphobia, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Gay Panic, Hurts So Good, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Poly, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Relationship Negotiation, Smut, blowjob after blowjob, boys is dumb, gayyyyy, i fucked with the timeline a bit, lots of blowjobs, mostly canon i guess, negotiation, so many blowies, sophia is the ultimate dom btw, tiesto's song I Like Us Better When We're Wasted is the ULTIMATE, very gentle anal fingering haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_disposition/pseuds/sweet_disposition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternately titled, I Don't Want to be Your Friend, I Want to Fuck Your Face</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Like Us Better When We're Wasted

**Author's Note:**

> This was a labor of love from us! Drunkenly (of course) inspired by our repeated listening of Tiesto's "I Like Us Better When We're Wasted," the premise is basically that Liam and Zayn started hooking up when drunk because DUH look at the way they look at each other and then it became A THING.
> 
> Played way fast and loose with the timeline here, but this is mostly supposed to be canon rather than AU.
> 
> Anyway.  
> Enjoy xx
> 
> Also the playlist I made is here: http://8tracks.com/musiclily88/i-like-us-better-when-we-re-wasted  
> I cannot for the life of me figure out how to post that as a link which is sad but hey

Liam entered the bus with a stomp, his eyes bleary and red. Zayn trooped in behind him, looking a bit more composed but glowering. Louis and Harry were sat around the table at the front of the bus, picking at various breakfast foods, croissants and cubed fruits among them. “How was your lads’ night last night?” Niall called from the small bus bathroom, the door propped open slightly.

“Fine,” Liam said shortly.

“Get proper smashed? Go out on the lash for once, Leemo?” Harry queried next, peeling an orange with great concentration.

“Yep,” he agreed. “I’m feeling pretty rough. Hangover, I think.”

“What’s that on your neck, Li? Someone get a lovebite?” Louis asked curiously, eyes suddenly bright. He elbowed Harry gently, gesturing to Liam with his chin.

“Curling iron burn,” Liam huffed out, rolling his eyes.

“You shaved all your hair off, bro. You literally have no hair. Made some big huff about how Dani always said it was your best feature and you took a pair of clippers to it and made Lou scream at you for an hour,” Louis reasoned slowly.

“Okay, whatever, I probably snogged some girl at the club or something, okay? I’m single now, I can do what I want, right? I didn’t even want to do this, you guys insisted. I don’t know why I listen to you at all, you’re all terrible. I don’t remember everything that happened and my head hurts and I think I might be sick on your stupid face, okay? You and your stupid soulmate who you met when you were eighteen. We can’t all have soulmates. Can we?”

Niall nudged the bathroom door open more. “Holy fecking shit, Liam, who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

“I haven’t eaten anything today, I was sick as soon as I got out of bed. I hate alcohol and I hate Danielle and I am going to go take a nap!” He trudged away without another word.

“Hm,” Harry began, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you—do you think he’s okay? Should we try to be less couple-y around him, like? Maybe we’re hurting his feelings. I know he really loved Danielle.”

“Oh Jesus Christ!” Zayn barked. “I’ll be in the back, I need a fucking spliff if I’m going to deal with this.” He too trudged away.

“Um.” Harry looked down at his orange. “I’m gonna go give Liam a cuddle. I dunno what the hell’s wrong with Zayn. Lou, you maybe tackle him? He thinks my jokes are tedious and that’s kind of my frontrunner method of cheering people up.”

“Deal.” They stood up together to move out of the front of the bus.

“Oh! I see how it is. Just leave me here with my thumb up my arse, yeah? I’ll just play FIFA _by myself again._ Maybe I’ll join 5SOS, at least they pay attention to me, unlike you four over-dramatic narcissists.”

“We can’t all have a mental breakdown at once! Liam has dibs right now,” Harry called out.

“Did you swallow a fucking dictionary, Ni?” Louis added. “That was right impressive.”

“I’ve taken up reading because you all ignore me so much. I have a subscription to Cosmo now.”

“Give me tips on blowjobs later, yeah?” Harry asked, peeling back the curtain to Liam’s bunk.

 

_“Don’t you talk to me about blowjobs!”_ Liam demanded, yanking the curtain shut again.

“Have an orange?” Harry offered, trying to pry the curtain open again.

 

Meanwhile, Louis sat down next to Zayn, who was working steadily through a fat joint. “You wanna share?”

“This one’s mine.”

“Not what I meant, but okay. I meant, like. Share what happened?”

“Parts of the night are kind of—blurry.”

“Which parts?”

“Oh. Well.” They sat in silence for a literal five minutes while Louis waited for Zayn to collect himself and for the THC to kick in. Moody Zayn was a bit old hat for Louis. “I do remember giving Liam that lovebite.”

“Figures.”

:::

__

_“This is a good song,” Liam said, his head heavy on Zayn’s shoulder in the back seat of the Town Car._

_“You’re drunk. Also, this is Gotta Be You. This is one of our songs.”_

_“I’m a bit dumb.”_

_“Nah, you’re just a lightweight. Should’ve taken that one-kidney thing a bit more seriously, reckon.”_

_“Tequila is disgusting.”_

_“Good thing you switched to pink moscato, then, eh?”_

_“My mum drinks it. Says it makes her feel fancy.” Liam hummed slightly, turning his face up to nuzzle against Zayn’s neck._

_“Okay, maybe you are a bit dumb.”_

_“M’not that dumb. I know plenty of things.”_

_“Such as?”_

_“Such as, that pink wine makes me feel slutty and that sometimes you look at me like you want to kiss me.”_

_“What?”_

_“Like tonight. You looked like that tonight,” Liam whispered against the skin of Zayn’s neck, tickling him and making his breath go shallow._

_“And what do I look like right now?”_

_“Dunno, do I. My eyes are closed.”_

_“Not fair.”_

_Liam hummed again, shrugging. He said nothing._

_“Want me to tell you how you looked tonight, then?”_

_“Like a sad, short-haired lump on the rebound. Someone who just got dumped and can’t handle it?”_

_“No, love. You looked like a broken-hearted angel. You looked beautiful.”_

_Liam groaned and dropped his head from Zayn’s shoulder. “I don’t get you, though. How do you just do that?”_

_“What?”_

_“Make me question everything I thought I knew.”_

_“That’s not—”_

_“And make me like you so much. S’ridiculous. Don’t get how that happens. So like. If you want to kiss me, you just should. You can.”_

_“What?”_

_“You can.” Liam sucked in a deep breath. “You should.” He paused for a moment. “Have you ever kissed a bloke before?”_

_“Bro, I’ve kissed _you_ before.”_

_“Yeah, but that was an accident. This might be. Like.” He trailed off._

_And that wasn’t okay, so. So Zayn ducked his head forward swiftly, decisively, pressing his lips into Liam’s hard. Liam hummed into it and opened his mouth, teeth instantaneously attaching to Zayn’s bottom lip. Zayn ducked away for a moment, trying to catch his breath._

_**Love love love** was the litany running through his head. And maybe that was silly or bad but it also wasn’t going to keep him from kissing Liam._

_Zayn lurched forward again, attaching his lips to Liam’s. His lips were soft and pillowed, and he’d let his facial hair grow long so Zayn was getting beard-burn. He kind of liked it, as far as things went, and he’d been out to the lads since the beginning, his bisexuality being one of the things he wanted to get off his chest early on._

_Zayn set one hand on Liam’s thigh, pressing his fingers in, hard and precise. He thought he might mark Liam’s pretty, tan skin, and the thought thrilled him for a moment—the idea of his bruise lasting for hours or days or however many moments it might linger. He groaned._

_Liam detached their lips, pressing one thumb into Zayn’s jaw. “You coming back to mine tonight, then, babe?” he murmured against Zayn’s hot skin._

_“We’re rooming together tonight, silly,” Zayn responded, feigning confidence he did not feel. “You’re in mine anyway.”_

_“In you anyway?”_

_“Shit, mate.”_

_“Can I be?” Liam whispered, his lips hot against the shell of Zayn’s ear. “In you.”_

_“Guess we’ll have to see.”_

__

:::

“I dunno, so like,” Zayn said, taking in a puff of spliff.

“And did you fuck then?”

“I mean, I think we did something, at least. I sort of don’t remember all of it. There’s where the blurry bits come in.”

“How’s your arse feel, at least?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Fine, sorry, Zed. But really.”

“I woke up naked and I’ve got some intense beard-burn on my thighs, so. Like. Something happened. But I don’t think we fuck-fucked.”

“You gonna chat to him about it?”

“Like he’s gonna let me.”

“I’ll sort him out.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise.”

:::

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Harry asked tentatively, leaving his orange-style peace offering behind and crawling into Liam’s bunk.

“What’s there to talk about?” Liam grumbled, back facing toward Harry, his face buried in his pillow.

“I don’t know, Leemo. Because you sort of just lost it back there. Is your blood sugar low? Because I get really cranky when my blood sugar gets low,” Harry guessed, brows furrowing in concern as he rubbed Liam’s back. “Or maybe just like—stress? I know breaking up with Dani has been really rough on you.” He trailed off, backing away in case Liam snapped again.

“Yeah, guess that’s one way to put it. More like she ripped out my heart and crammed it into one of those weird smoothie juice machines you insisted on keeping on the bus.” 

“That’s—um, violent? I’m sorry you’ve been smoothied?” Harry replied, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“Thanks. Whatever Doesn’t matter. I’m sort of on the rebound.” Liam shrugged with a long sigh. 

“Ah, right. So you met a nice bird last night then? Is that what’s got you all—grumpy? Not enough sleep because you were up all night?” 

“No,” Liam replied defensively, curling up into a little ball, vaguely wishing Harry would just go away. “I mean, yes, no, fuck—I don’t know,” he fumbled as he tried to find the best way to admit he was having a slight gay panic. “I mean I know I did _things_ with someone.” He gestured vaguely to the wall, his cheeks turning bright pink.

“Someone?”

“Someone. A person. Someone else who wasn’t me angrily crying and jacking it,” Liam scoffed with a frustrated groan.

“Wow, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just admit to cranking. Okay. Let’s focus on the fact that you’re obviously in some sort of distress,” Harry muttered, curling up behind Liam and cuddling him, now that he knew he wasn’t in any immediate danger of being punched in the face. “So this um, person—” he started carefully.

“Person? Jesus fucking Christ, H! Of course it’s a person! I’m not going about fucking sheep or attractive poodles!” Liam squeaked, curling back into Harry’s warmth reluctantly.

“That’s not what I meant, cripes. Although to be fair you did compare Dani to a bitchy poodle on several occasions,” Harry added lamely.

“Hey, frick! Only I’m allowed to say that. I don’t actively hate her!” Liam snipped, shooting Harry a dirty look over his shoulder.

“I didn’t, that’s not what I—forget it Li.” Harry faltered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to keep himself from getting frustrated. “What I meant was, you seem to be making a point not to use gender specific pronouns.” 

“Gender specific pronouns? What the fuck Haz, talk stupid to me. Please.” 

“What I’m saying is you haven’t said it was a girl—but you also haven’t said it wasn’t a boy either,” Harry pointed out.

“Fuck.” _Boy._

“So was it a boy? Or maybe genderqueer? I mean, I won’t judge, a person is a person and we’re all people so it shouldn’t matter. Love who you love I say—er I guess fuck who you fuck in this case? Maybe?” Harry offered supportively.

“While I appreciate the moving speech, I’m afraid it’s much simpler than that. They do have a gender and—let’s just say it’s not, like. My usual type,” Liam mumbled quietly, afraid that someone may over hear them. “Let’s say it’s more _your_ type,” he finished with a soft sigh.

“Louis? Wait, no. I mean, I know that’s not possible, because he was definitely in bed with me last night,” Harry replied, thoroughly confused.

“No. Not Louis. I meant a bloke. I hooked up with a bloke. I’m freaking the fuck out, H, I’m not gay, but Jesus, I was last night.” 

“Oh.” Harry fell silent. “Okay.” 

“But I’m not gay!” Liam yelped, scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You don’t have to be gay to enjoy hooking up with dudes,” Harry tried to explain, unsure how to gently handle this situation. He’d been sure enough about his sexuality since childhood, and he sure liked to suck cock now.

“Yes you do, that means you’re gay. And I’m straight, Harry. Straight men don’t go down on their best mates!” Liam blurted out, his eyes going wide the moment he’d realized what he said.

“Wait. What? No.” 

“You heard me.”

“Zayn? “ Harry gasped, covering his mouth immediately. “You hooked up with Zayn?” he checked, biting back a smile. 

“Yes. Or at least I think I did,” Liam grumbled, hiding his face deep into the pillow.

“You think you did?”

“I was wasted. I don’t know exactly how far it went. But um—we were naked this morning and I had some stuff on my face,” Liam whispered, still unable to look Harry in the eyes. 

“Oh, well that changes things. Doesn’t it?” Harry nodded, trying to follow along with everything that was happening.

“Does it?”

“I mean, yeah? Maybe? You think you can just go about touring and sleeping in the same hotel room and pretend this never happened?” Harry checked, suddenly realizing the larger implications this might have for the band and the friendships they spent years building.

“I don’t know. Seems that’s what Zayn wants,” Liam huffed, finally turning over to face Harry.

“Have you talked to Zayn about it? This isn’t a thing where you can just assume. You don’t know what he wants. Maybe he’s just as scared as you are,” Harry pointed out, pulling Liam into a tight hug.

“I’m not scared,” Liam defended, trying to push Harry away.

“Okay then. Why haven’t you talked to him?” 

“Because it’s not that bloody easy. Jesus, not everyone meets their fucking soulmate like you did! He’s not Louis and I’m not you!” Liam whined, hiding his face in Harry’s shoulder. 

“Oh, and you think it was all kisses and cuddles for us?” Harry challenged, scrunching his face up at Liam.

“Well it was, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck, that’s hilarious.” Harry snorted with a humourless laugh. “Louis and I have it far from easy. We had all sorts of difficult conversations. Louis was dating a girl when we first started being a thing—that was a lot to navigate. He had to come out to his parents and friends, now there’s all this shit with Eleanor and keeping up a hetero appearance. It’s fucking impossible.”

“Then why do you keep at it?”

“Because I love him. Because Louis is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t imagine a life where he’s not mine and I’m not his,” Harry replied honestly. 

“But what if I don’t want that—what if Zayn doesn’t want that? Zayn has a girlfriend. Fucking hell, he told me he was thinking of proposing a while back. What am I supposed to do with that? Hang around and be some sort of diversion to help him avoid the fact that he’s already committed to some bird for life?” Liam rushed out in a single breath.

“Whoa, mate, easy there. First of all, Perrie is a lovely person, and even you like her. Second of all—nothing is final right now. He hasn’t proposed, and maybe he wouldn’t if he knew that you were into him,” Harry murmured soothingly. 

“But what if I don’t like blokes?” 

“You like him.”

“I was drunk.”

“But you’re not drunk right now—and you still like him, right?”

“Right—I think. I don’t know. I’m not gay. I’m not. I shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea.”

“For the last time, you don’t have to be gay. You just have to be sure that you like Zayn.”

“Of course I like him. Everyone likes him. He’s fucking gorgeous and sensitive and super sweet. He couldn’t even stand to see a fish suffer, a fucking _fish._ He’s too good for me.” Liam pouted, nuzzling his face against Harry’s neck.

“Stop it right there. Don’t you dare go down that road. You, Liam Payne, are amazing. You’re kind and strong and you’ve got a wonderful sense of humor. Better than mine, at any rate. Not to mention you’ve got biceps for days and big brown eyes that put a puppy to shame,” Harry offered with a wide smile. 

“You’re such a little shit. Don’t use those on me. It won’t work,” Liam teased, poking at Harry’s dimples.

“Ah but they did! Is that a smile I see?” 

“Yes,” Liam admitted grudgingly. 

“And Zayn, you’ll talk to him?”

“We’ll see.”

“Well that’s better than a no, so I’ll take it. “

:::

Liam fell asleep in Harry’s bunk, cuddling in a way he’d only recently gotten used to. Boys—men?—blokes were new to him. He sort of knew how to navigate girls, knew how to be self-deprecating enough to just kind of…work it. But a friend was different. His best friend was different.

Right?

When he awoke, he rubbed his face hard, wondering just what the fuck he ought to do. He pulled back the bunk’s curtain and surveyed the bus cautiously. All was quiet, which was decidedly rare, considering.

“Hey!” he heard Louis hiss from the lounge. “C’mere.”

“Please don’t bollocks me, Lou, I can’t handle it right now,” Liam groaned, pitching forward out of the bed.

“You just napped on my boyfriend, I think I can give you a bit of bollocking, okay? Just come here.”

“What d’you want?” Liam asked, tracing his way to the back of the bus.

“I want a cuddle, you tit, just come here.” He entered the lounge slowly and found a soft-looking Louis, droopy eyes trained on him fondly. “Oh, Li.” He spread his arms and shunted his hips forward to make space on the cushion. “I can’t very well beat you up when you’re already beating yourself up, can I? Dick.”

“Where is he?”

“In his own bunk. Probably furiously jacking it and thinking about your abs, duh,” Louis said as Liam settled in.

“That’s not—that’s gross, okay, I don’t. This is bad, right?”

“I think mostly you ignoring each other is the bad thing, actually.”

“He ran away from me, kind of. Can’t very well make him talk if he doesn’t want to.”

“Yes, you can. But good on you for giving him some time, yeah? He needs that.” Louis planted a sloppy kiss on Liam’s jaw, throwing himself bodily into Liam’s lap. “Plus it gives you time to figure out what you want.”

“I don’t know if I can figure that out without talking to him, though. You know?”

“Sure. What, like, happened?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t really remember all of it.”

“I think I accidentally blew him.”

“Accidentally. Like, what’s a blowie between friends, accidentally, no big thing, ha-ha?”

“I told you not to bollocks me.”

“It’s not an accident to blow someone you’re in love with, I reckon.”

“Who the fuck said I’m in love with him,” Liam growled, trying to move out of Louis’ anaconda-like grasp. He was unsuccessful.

“I did.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Louis pressed his fingers into Liam’s biceps, hard, and keened slightly. “You two do need to talk, though.”

“I know.”

“You’re a fangirl’s wet dream, by the way. If you could have a kid that was half you and half Zayn, that kid could totally rule the world.”

“But we can’t. Plus, like. He’s got Perrie, hasn’t he.”

“Oh fuck. He does.”

“Yeah. I think I’m the only one who remembers that.”

“That’s only because you’re looking for reasons to talk yourself out of making this work.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I do, though, don’t I?”

“What if I’m too fucked up to do this, though?”

“You don’t even know what you’d be agreeing to do! You haven’t fucking talked to him!”

“I woke up with come on my face, I think that’s kind of like an—a whatsit, an explicit agreement?”

“Implicit.”

“That. Yeah, that.”

“He loves you too, you know.”

“It’s not you I need to hear that from, but like. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. So how’s your gay panic going?”

“Um.”

“Mine was super shitty. I had a panic attack in the loo during X Factor. Which sucked, because Harry always just like, knew. Zayn did too.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s known he’s bi since like year t—”

“Louis, _I know._ Okay, it’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not going well then?”

“I’m not gay!”

“I know. But you’re something, aren’t you?”

“Do I have to be?”

“Nope. That’s the nice thing actually. You can just fuck him and have that be the name of it. Don’t have to label it if you don’t want. Only if he’s okay with that too, you know? The rest is bullshit.”

“Oh.” Except that they hadn’t really done anything more than wasted blowies and awkward mutual wank-offs. But.

“But you really need to talk to him because Niall’s got a complex about the band breaking up and how he needs to try to blow a dude in order to fit into the band. Like an initiation thing.”

“The fuck?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.”

“I’m already fucking everything up.”

“It takes two, k, bro? And I think we can fix it.”

“You can’t fix everything,” Liam muttered.

“You just gotta trust me.”

:::

 

Eventually Louis flitted off with complaints of hunger pangs, but apparently his gesture was merely a ruse to usher Zayn into the back lounge. He stood awkwardly on the threshold, looking at Liam and biting his lip. Liam shifted and heaved a deep sigh.

“You have a girlfriend.”

“Oh. Um. Sorry.”

“And I have a hickey on my neck.”

“I’m not sorry about that.”

“What do you want, like?”

Zayn’s face collapsed for a moment, his eyes shuttering, his chest going concave. “I just want you. What do you want?”

“You.”

“So what do we do?”

“What do you mean, what do we do? You have Perrie.”

“Perrie and I have an…understanding.”

Liam snorted. “You guys might have an understanding, sure. But what if I’m not okay with that?”

“Babe.” Zayn stepped into the lounge unsteadily, eyes still dark.

“No, stop it. You can’t _pretty_ your way out of this.”

Zayn gave him a slow smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“You know you’re pretty!”

“But you. You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I think you’re pretty too.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah. I really, really do.”

Liam finally, finally opened his arms and beckoned Zayn to him, finally let Zayn settle into his side easy as anything. “I love you,” Zayn whispered, ducking his face into Liam’s collarbone, pressing his lips into the fabric of his shirt.

“But do you love me enough?”

Zayn exhaled sharply, shifting sideways so his hips aligned with Liam’s. “I hope so.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

“What?”

“That’s the problem.”

“S’not a problem, like.”

“You have a girlfriend.”

“I do. Love her to bits, even. She’s lovely. Even you like her.”

“You’re not making a good case for yourself, hope you realize.”

“Li. I love you so much. Since the beginning.”

“What now?”

“Thought you were straight. Til just recent, thought you were straight.”

“Thought I was too.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, or like, great. I don’t regret loving you. You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”

“Don’t,” Zayn said in a low tone, flushing as he pressed his face against Liam’s pec. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”

Liam blew a raspberry and sighed, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry I made you sad.”

“It’s not you. Just the situation.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Where does that leave us?”

:::

Perrie boarded the second bus and launched herself at Liam, peppering his face with kisses. “Did you know you’re my favourite?” she said in a sing-song voice, her candy-floss hair brushing Liam’s cheek with every word.

“Shh!” Liam replied in a stage-whisper. “He can’t know about the affair!”

They’d ignored the don’t-ask-don’t-tell aspect of the typical open relationship, moving towards a strange faux-flirtation that meant they frequently texted one another and had conversations outside of Zayn’s awareness. Liam sort of liked it, really, even if it confused him. But then, most things confused him.

“Jade says hi, by the way,” Perrie murmured, patting Liam’s cheek. “She says you’re the prettiest in the band.”

“Ugh, stop,” Liam said, cheeks flushing. “Go kiss your boyfriend, he’s getting jelly.”

“I know the feeling, actually,” Perrie replied, quirking a brow at Liam.

“Wait. What?”

“We’ll chat. No hard feelings, love.” She curled up tighter in Liam’s lap before patting his cheek. “I signed up for this.”

“I’m not so sure I did, though.” Liam sometimes wasn’t sure how far their agreement extended, wasn’t sure if making out with a stranger in a club was allowed.

“You should chat with Jade, babe. She’s—well, same situation, yeah?”

“Not asking and not telling doesn’t really seem to be the system anymore, eh?” he replied, shunting a bit so Perrie wasn’t sat so precisely on his dick.

“No one’s perfect, babe.”

_Zayn is,_ he wanted to say, but refrained. “Is it possible to be in love with two people at once?”

“I am.” She shrugged, standing up off of Liam’s lap. “Seriously. Talk to Jade.”

:::

Liam, bleary-eyed, tired, and slightly hungover, got on the bus and dropped his duffle at his feet.

“Oi, loverboy, where’s the boyfriend hiding?” Louis called out before stuffing a croissant into his mouth.

“S’not my boyfriend.”

“He isn’t?” Harry asked, dropping down to sit next to Louis. “Only, you have a lot of lovebites on your neck.”

“Be nice to me. I’m hungover.”

“Seeing the sense in your former no-drinking policy, eh?” Harry said sympathetically.

“You always seem to have lovebites when you and Zayn get drunk together,” Louis added, smirking.

“Yeah well we only get off together when I’m wasted, don’t we?” Liam muttered, kicking his bag away from himself angrily, walking toward his bunk.

“Follow him,” Harry pleaded, slapping idly at Louis’ arm. “Please.”

Louis heaved out a loud sigh and got to his feet. “You’re lucky I love you lot. You all have so much fucking drama.”

“I can’t handle this right now, okay? I think I’m gonna be sick,” Liam said, sad eyes directed at Louis.

“Well I’ll bring you a fucking bucket because we’re having this conversation. I’d even offer to play with your hair except you shaved it all off, you daftie.”

“Shut it.”

“Nah, it looks nice. Shows off your cheekbones.”

“Stop flirting with me. Your boyfriend’s in the other room.”

“He’s secure in our relationship. It’s fine.”

“That must be nice.”

“Yeah. Cut the shit. This is me you’re talking to.”

“I need more. I think I need more.”

“Do you really only fuck when you’re wasted?”

Liam snorted. “I’m in love with someone who has a girlfriend. What do you think?”

“You know, you use that excuse a lot. Kinda got me wondering what it’s keeping you from.”

Liam sighed.

“I just mean that you look fucking miserable. And anyone sleeping with Zayn shouldn’t be that fucking miserable.”

“I’m hungover.”

“You’re a goddamn disaster. You both are.”

:::

Liam addressed it that evening, lying in bed with Zayn. Perhaps that was his first mistake. “I don’t—have like a title. Or a label, or whatever.”

“Okay. What are you, then? Like, bi, or pan or sommat?” Zayn ran one finger over the shell of Liam’s ear, tickling his skin.

“That’s—not what I mean at all.”

Zayn’s finger stilled. “Then I don’t get it.”

“I’m not your boyfriend. I’m like. I’m not your anything.”

“You’re the love of my life.”

Liam pulled away, face steely. He levered himself onto one arm. “How can you even say that?”

Zayn looked baffled. “Uh, because it’s the truth. I would never, ever lie to you. I never have.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You can’t just—you were into me from day one and I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t want to hear it, bro, you would have flipped! You would have fucking _hated_ me if I told you that! I thought you were straight, everyone did. Hell, you thought you were!”

“But if I’d known, I might’ve—I might’ve figured it out sooner!”

Zayn backed away. “You can’t put this on me, Liam. That’s not fucking fair. Your sexual flip-out can’t be pinned on me, it just can’t.”

“Did you just call this a _sexual flip-out?_ Really? You think this is a one-off? Fuck you. I’m sorry I couldn’t figure my shit out at age, what, thirteen like you did, but we can’t all be perfect, okay?”

“I didn’t mean that, babe, please—” Zayn moved toward Liam placatingly, eyes dark.

“No way. I just—space. Need space. Get off me please.” Liam brushed away Zayn’s arm and got off their bed.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

:::

They broke up two days later, if their situation could be called a relationship. Even that, at that point, became part of the argument. Zayn took to his bed and Liam took to exercising upwards of three hours per day.

On day five, Zayn got on a flight without telling anyone—not his partner in crime, not the cute one, not anyone.

Days after that, Louis pulled a sweaty, exhausted Liam out of the hotel gym with furious bodily force. “I have to talk to you about something.”

“I already know he’s visiting her, her band is on a break right now too.”

_“You absolutely do not understand.”_

Liam stopped dead in his tracks even as Louis tried to yank on his wrist to propel him forward. “No—no one died or anything, right?”

“No.”

“Then I reckon you might be exagger—”

“He proposed to her.”

:::

Their next few interviews were, in a word, torturous to Liam. He sighed, he rolled his eyes, he huffed and puffed, and he genuinely considered showing up drunk. He became unprofessional to the point that even Louis pulled him aside and recommend he “find some chill.”

Instead Liam went back home and found himself a girlfriend.

:::

“H, you can’t keep hanging onto me like a bloody koala. I can’t rehearse when you do that,” Liam muttered, standing stock-still with a grabby-handed Harry suction-cupped to his torso, legs wrapped firmly around his hips.

“But I’m _worried_ about you!”

“This is not how normal people express worry.”

“But unlike a koala, I am not going to piss on you,” Harry reasoned, tucking his face into Liam’s shoulder and tightening his arms around Liam’s neck.

“That remains to be seen,” Louis argued, rolling his eyes. “Impressive feats of upper body strength aside—which, how are you even holding yourself up right now, Haz? It’s like comparing a string-bean to a giant redwood, Christ—we do need to talk to you.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“It’s not an intervention or anything,” Harry added, sliding gracelessly down Liam’s front until they were standing in front of one another. “We just need to check and make sure you’re okay.”

“You’re supposed to be the sensible one, innit. I don’t really want you accidentally becoming literally Daddy Direction because you’re revenge-fucking your girlfriend and your anger breaks through the condom.”

“I’m not revenge-fucking anyone!” Liam crowed, throwing his hands up into the air.

“That was a really—vivid mental image, Lou,” Harry murmured, pulling Louis aside by one shoulder.

“Just be glad I left out the part where he cries on her like a giant, muscly baby.”

“You know, you’re being a real dick. A true friend would be happy for me.”

“Are you happy, though?” Harry asked quietly.

Liam said nothing, not trusting himself not to blurt out that he wouldn’t be happy until Zayn covered up that atrocious portrait tattoo, that he couldn’t be happy until he was loved, that all he wanted to do was belong to someone.

:::

Things thawed, a bit, simply because proximity forced them to be together all the fucking time. Liam found himself utterly unable to hate Zayn, even though he wanted to.

Eventually, things came to a head.

And maybe Liam was a little out of his head to do something so reckless and stupid as climb atop the railing-less ledge of a thousand-foot building and pose for a photo. Maybe he wanted to feel like bloody Batman for once, to know what it felt like to be universally adored.

He knew that was silly, knew that fans everywhere adored him and the rest of the band. He objectively knew that he was putting absolutely everything at risk, and yet. And yet, he just wanted to be seen. He wanted to be found and taken in whole, just as he was.

Zayn pummeled Liam’s chest with sharp fists as soon as he found out, calling the spectacle a _pathetic fucking stunt_ and threatening to commit him to a hospital if he ever did something so stupid again. “You’re better than that, you complete and utter shit. I am—fucking hell, Liam,” he spat, face red. He looked _livid_ and he cracked a sharp slap across Liam’s cheekbone. “Sort yourself out or I swear to god I’ll kill you myself.”

“Empty threats.” _Big words, little man._ Liam sniffled slightly and shoved his hotel-room door open fully. “Would you like to continue this scene in the corridor or take it inside?”

Zayn groaned loudly, kicked Liam in the shin, and stormed off down the hallway. Given that the kick didn’t actually hurt much—Zayn was after all wearing a pair of Louis’ ratty Vans, not a pair of Harry’s witch boots—Liam simply rolled his eyes and followed him, shutting the door behind himself.

His heart was in his throat but he managed to clear it noisily before calling out, “You’re being ridiculous.”

Zayn rounded on him, face thunderous and dark. “I’m being ridiculous? Me? Death-defying stunts seem to be all up your alley, sunshine.”

“I was never in any actual danger.”

“Yeah, well, right now you’re in danger of me brutally murdering you, and Louis’ not around to help me hide the body. So if you’ll excuse me.” He turned around again, footsteps soft on the carpet.

Liam followed him, hearing going staticky and harsh. “What the fuck?” he asked, barging into Zayn’s room behind him as soon as he’d opened the door.

“You can’t just do that to yourself, people rely on you.”

“Maybe I’m sick of being reliable. Maybe I need to loosen up. I’m getting a little sick of being someone who only gets noticed when someone needs something from him, you know? Of just blending into the background except when someone needs a helping hand.”

_“Fuck you,”_ Zayn hissed, slamming the door shut and slapping his palm against Liam’s shoulder. “I have never in my life thought of you that way.”

“I’m sick of being second-best.”

“So you pretend to Batman? People _need you,_ genuinely _need_ you. I need you. I need you not to jump off a bridge just because you need a laugh, all right? And I need you to talk to me.”

“I didn’t just need a laugh. I need for things to change, and maybe that starts with me.”

“You don’t _need_ to change, you wanker. You’re perfect, even if you are an idiot, although that perfection does not extend to that fucking horrible display you just brought upon us.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“Subjectively perfect.”

“Stop it.”

“You really need to stop doing this shit, though. It’s fucking with my head.”

“Now you know how it feels when you fuck with mine,” Liam growled, darting forward to pin Zayn against the wall and crash him into a bruising kiss.

They battled and silently argued for a moment before Liam won, his muscular bulk winning out and Zayn’s semi-regular submission kicking into high gear. Liam lifted Zayn’s arse and forced him to place his legs around Liam’s waist, holding Zayn’s weight carefully, still pressing him against the wall.

_Love you._

Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam’s neck and head, yanking roughly at the short bit of hair at his disposal. He moaned quietly into their kiss, shunting his pelvis forward. “Bed,” he demanded after pulling his lips away. “Now.”

They shuffled sideways idiotically, their knees hitting the mattress simultaneously. Liam instantly moved his hands to Zayn’s jeans, undoing the button and zipper and shucking them down a bit. “Never thought you'd be cut, you know?”

“That’s not just Judaism, but like. Okay,” Zayn breathed out noisily, shutting his eyes and pressing his shoulderblades into the duvet. “Take your trousers off now or I’ll scream at you again.”

“Fuck, please don’t,” Liam muttered, hands fluttering to his flies, undoing them with spectacular ease.

Zayn surged forward and helped Liam shuck off the fabric before attaching his beautiful berry-pink lips to the head of Liam’s uncut dick. And that sort of undid them both, Liam throwing his head back, shoving Zayn into the bed again. Zayn swirled his tongue at Liam’s cock carefully, almost shyly, as though asking for permission or forgiveness or something unnamed.

He bore down for a moment, feeling Zayn’s throat open slowly They’d done that, what, three times before. Always Zayn. That was probably embarrassing. But Liam found most of his own actions embarrassing. And yeah, he feared embarrassing himself in front of Zayn but. Here he was, eyes closed, blissful look on his face, head thrown back like he wanted to ascend into heaven.

He simply lay back against the pillows and let Zayn suck at him.

“Love it, love, you’re so. Love,” Zayn muttered, eyes shut, one of his hands flying up to cover his brow. “Can’t handle.”

“You’re okay, bebs, you’re perfect,” Liam replied, settling a careful hand into Zayn’s hair.

“Come soon, maybe. Wanna know I sorted you out proper.”

“You, fuck, you always know what to do, just right. Fuck, your mouth—”

“Fuck my mouth, yeah,” Zayn requested, gold-brown eyes looking wet and pleading. “Want you to.”

Liam bit his bottom lip and moaned aloud, repositioning his hand along Zayn’s jaw. “Open, babe. Glad we have a day off, vocal rest for you, mebbe.”

Zayn didn’t respond, only shut his eyes and smiled.

Liam fed his cock into Zayn’s mouth again, past his tongue. He tried to forget everything he had ever done forever, but it didn’t work because—because Zayn was beautiful and totally, totally perfect.

He cupped Zayn’s sack without preamble, without even thinking, and that was maybe gay, right? His arm ached a little at the stretch but it seemed a fair trade. He wanted to receive absolutely anything from Zayn, probably. He bucked up off the bed experimentally.

His chest shuddered and his abs contracted, the entirety of his concentration focused on _Zayn taking his dick down so deep._ He tried to keep his breathing even, his brain focused but instead all managed was a low groan. Then he snapped his hips up, pistoning back and forth with renewed vigour.

Zayn choked and gagged, closing his eyes tight-tight. 

“Not gonna last long, your throat’s so, fuck, babe.”

Zayn hummed gently, sending vibrations up Liam’s cock straight to his pelvis, and he shunted his hips forward again, doing deeper. Heat and slick and quiet vibrations sent Liam teetering forward, his vision going grey. And then he shattered.

He came with a wild grunt, without any time to warn anyone—himself, Zayn, the universe at large. He came in thick, angry ropes down Zayn’s pliant throat, muttering quietly to the open room.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered, running his thumb along Zayn’s jaw. He gingerly pulled out of his mouth, Zayn’s pillowed lips are bright red and slick with split. “Holy shit, Zed.” 

And suddenly he was scrabbling at Zayn’s shoulders, trying to lift him upward to pull him into an embrace, rather than shoving his face into Liam’s hip and falling asleep.

“Surprised come didn’t spurt out my nose,” Zayn grumbled, voice rocky and thick with emotion and, what, affection? Care?

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“Come here,” he demanded, pulling at Zayn’s languid, rubbery limbs so that he was straddling Liam’s hips easily. He pinched at one of Zayn’s nipples and watched Zayn’s face contort into a tiny pout. 

“Be nice,” he demanded, adding a smack to Liam’s bare torso for emphasis.

“I will, jeeze, just tell me how you want me?” Which was—what, perhaps absolutely not what he had intended to say?

“Any which way, just be quick about it, before I remember I’m furious at you.”

“Shit, yeah,” Liam agreed, planting one hand on Zayn’s arse and flipping them over fluidly, shimmying down to nuzzle at Zayn’s crotch. Which was—no, nope, not okay, his brain sputtered, so instead he latched his lips to Zayn’s dick silently, closing his eyes.

He let Zayn fuck upwards slowly, savouring the taste and sensation, enjoying the breathy little moan Zayn emitted. Liam licked a wet stripe down the underside of Zayn’s cock, tongueing at the prominent vein he found there. He planted his palms flat on Zayn’s thighs, pulling him closer incrementally.

An idea hit him like a punch to the throat, and he snaked one finger up and shoved in past Zayn’s slackened lips, adding a second for good measure. He waited for Zayn to get the message, pressing his fingers down onto the pad of Zayn’s tongue.

Then he moved his fingers beneath Zayn, forcing his legs up slightly to open up his body. He unceremoniously circled both of his spit-slick fingers around Zayn’s rim, before his orgasm-addled brain thought better of it.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

Zayn hissed sharply through his teeth, shivering into Liam’s back-and-forth touching. “Fuck yeah,” he added with a nod.

Wary of hurting Zayn, he carefully pressed in just with one slick fingertip, moving it in a small circle to stretch the muscle. _Tight._

He tongued harder at Zayn’s slit as he worked his finger inside him just up to the top knuckle. And fucking hell he only just had the coherent thought that he was _inside Zayn,_ not in any meaningful way, not even fucking him, but just inside him like it wasn’t a big deal—and suddenly Zayn was coming, Liam’s mouth flooding with the taste of him, sweet and sticky.

They separated slowly but remained in one another’s body space, breaths returning to normal very, very slowly. Liam stretched himself out and moved up the bed to lie parallel with Zayn.

“We need to talk about this.”

“Not right now, please.”

They lay like that until their breathing went shallow. Liam waited until he thought Zayn might be asleep before collecting his clothes up and leaving the room.

:::

Liam avoided Zayn for three days, but Zayn avoided him right back. They set out on the next leg of the tour still giving one another silent, shamed glances and nothing else.

Liam awoke on a random Thursday at two a.m. to a heavy weight settling on his chest, a hand moving to grope his prick.

“Hey.”

“Hey?” Zayn muttered, grinding down onto Liam’s thighs. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Not good with words,” Liam argued, shoulders arching up off the flat of his cramped bus bunk.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m trying.”

They stayed like that, quiet and fumbling in the warmth of the dark. Their breaths filled the closed-off bunk, Liam’s back arched up and Zayn palming at his cock. “Wonder if I could make you come just like this, just a little bit of pressure, fully clothed.”

“You could probably m—ah, make me come any way you wanted to.”

“Can’t make you do any damn thing else.”

“L-like what?”

“Like be in love with me.”

Liam physically recoiled at that, bucking so that Zayn fell off his legs. “You don’t understand, that’s the exact fucking problem!”

“That I want you to be in love with me?”

“That I already am. I love you and I’m in love with you, and it’s just not good enough, okay?” Liam huffed and dove out of the bunk, stomping down the narrow corridor and collapsing into the back lounge. He sighed as he heard Zayn traipse along behind him. “It’s too fucking hard to compete, okay.”

“It’s not—it’s not about competing! Just let me love you!”

“You’ll always love her more.”

“That’s absolutely not true.”

“You proposed to her. She’s on your arm. She’s in every word you say, she’s everywhere. I just can’t compete. So please, just stop talking about it.”

“But I love you.”

“Maybe you’ll get over it.” Liam stood up and dashed to the bathroom, locking himself inside. He stayed there until morning.

:::

Zayn ignored the abject, ragged plea and took to draping himself on top of Liam inconveniently. Constantly. Liam shoved him off again and again, storming away time and time again. He huffed out a sigh each time, trying not to like the delicate feel of Zayn’s hips beneath his fingertips, trying not to look at the sharp slant of Zayn’s angular jaw. He sighed at the wine-red lips and the soft flush of his cheeks, pushing him away and away and away.

“Can I fuck sense into you, then?” Zayn whispered onstage at one point, forcing a bright smile that looked painful.

“Christ, no, you can’t. Why would you even ask me that.” He shoved himself away, not content to touch Zayn like that. Not right now.

He just, fuck, he needed to sort his head out and he couldn’t fucking do that when Zayn was climbing him like his own personal rockwall.

And worst was that no one seemed to get it, no one clued in to what a massive headfuck this was for him. He was all or nothing and do or die and this wasn’t fucking _on._

:::

The first thing Sophia did on her next visit was to pull Liam into a fierce hug, and the second was to back away and arch an exquisite eyebrow at him. “Come on,” she said, grabbing at his hand and moving to the exit of the aeroport.

“What? Do we have plans already?” He grabbed her suitcase and they exited, Paddy helping him make a safe retreat to the tank of a vehicle they often took when on the road. He wondered what the hell kind of plans she could have made since they’d last spoken, which was this morning.

The car stopped at an Italian restaurant that didn’t even look—open. “Did you join the Mafia since, like, yesterday? And forget to tell me?” She simply hummed and took his hand as she exited the SUV. They were ushered inside seamlessly, Liam’s eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of the interior. “No, really. Did you put a hit out on me?”

She rolled her eyes. “There are easier ways to have you murdered, Li.”

They were shown to a side table, a large round one that kind of made him feel like a king. He thought Sophia might make a good queen, had an _off with their heads_ quality about her.

And yet.

But then he understood, sort of maybe, when he saw Zayn and Paul stumble into the restaurant, a paternal hand on Zayn’s slender shoulder. And apparently Sophia was some kind of genius puppetmaster, because the look on her face brooked no argument.

“So.” She steepled her fingers as the new pair sat down. “Since you two can’t be trusted to solve your own stuff, and since these fine gentlemen—” here she gestured to Paul and Paddy, who both shrugged nonchalantly “are sick to death of the moping and tears, we’re having a formal sit-down.”

“What?” Liam spluttered.

“You’re going to reconcile or you’re going to starve.”

“Locking us in a room together isn’t necessarily going to solve anything,” Zayn muttered, voice dark.

“Easy for you to say, you keep cornering me in the dark and just being generally—ugh, filthy.” He shot Sophia an apologetic glance but she looked serene and decidedly unperturbed.

She waved her hands. “Clear the air, clear the air. I’m sure the only ones of us in this room who don’t know what’s going on are you two.”

“Not fair,” Zayn said with a petulant tone. “He knows I’m still in love with him.”

“You’ve always been smarter than me and better with knowing how to say shit! You just want me to come up to you and be like _hey when you eventually marry Perrie and leave me in the dust I’m gonna be devastated as fuck so maybe don’t do that thanks,_ is that what you want?”

“Better than you blowing me and pretending it never happened!” Zayn moaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Sorry, Soph.”

“If you apologize to me one more time, I swear to god I really will choose to date Eleanor over the ignorant lot of you,” she sighed, rolling her eyes again.

“What is actually happening right now?” Liam bellowed, surging to his feet and nearly knocking a chair over. He began to pace.

“Z, you and Per have the negotiated poly thing down, yeah?”

“I mean yeah, as down as it can be.”

“Okay, well, next time you might need to communicate that more to interested parties. Okay?”

“Wait, what?” Liam stuttered out, his movements stilling.

“I—said we had an understanding? Perrie and Jade are like. Yeah.”

“But what if I’m not okay with that?” Liam said, not unfairly, burying his face in his hands. “Maybe I’m not okay with that!”

“No pressure,” Sophia agreed, standing up to press a hand to Liam’s arm. “But it could be okay.”

“Stop it.” He backed away from her, nearly running into the wall.

“You love him.”

“I, I love you.”

“And him.”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe we talk about what’s fair and feels right, love, rather than what’s, you know. Normal.”

Liam sighed.

“Babe, you’re on the road a lot. And you love one another. And I love you both. You more than him, obviously, but he’s got his charms. So stop panicking, yeah?”

“What?”

“Let’s just chat this out. It’s time.”

:::

“If you fuck in front of me I swear to god I’ll blow my brains out!” Niall crowed, tackling both Liam and Zayn with annoyed exuberance.

“I’d consider letting you join if you only asked!” Liam called in return, trying to hit Niall with his discarded flannel button-up.

“Nuh-uh,” Niall argued, trying to duck out from beneath him. He gathered Liam’s face in both hands. “One taste of this and you’re done, it’s Mrs. Horan for life, bro.”

“Big talk, little man,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes and easily explicating himself from the fray. As usual.

Liam snapped his head to look at Zayn, narrowing his eyes. He was beginning to think that Zayn had learned to read his mind since they began communicating more like, well, adults than adolescent boys insistent that love was a pissing contest.

And for awhile Liam hadn’t been okay with things, hadn’t been okay with the idea of sharing and of negotiation and of changing his entire life. But Zayn had opened up and Sophia had mentioned that she thought Liam was his happiest when he was with the people he loved and—that was them.

But it was never fucking _easy._

It required Liam to rip his chest open and spill out secrets he’d kept secret from his best childhood mates, from his sisters, and from himself. 

 

Sophia had begun calling it “the bi thing,” adding that plenty of people went thought it and that plenty of bi people never came out—so he probably _knew_ bi people and didn’t even know that.

Liam honestly had thought maybe he’d accidentally met the smartest girl in the world and somehow tricked her into liking him. He had of course smiled blandly at her eye-rolls and sighs of “mediocre men and their wounded egos,” preening when she’d patted his bicep.

“Good thing you’re sweet,” she had murmured, planting a glossy kiss on his jaw.

“Thanks!” he had said, eyes bright and hang-dog.

“Serious question, babe?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you’re gay?”

And to his credit he hadn’t swallowed his tongue or choked or died. Instead he had simply said, “No.”

Niall sighed, trying to wriggle his way out of the dog-pile made of three man-children. “Wanna go smoke?” he asked, filling loosing himself of their clutching arms.

“Nah,” Liam sighed easily, turning into Zayn’s embrace.

“We’re good.”

**Author's Note:**

> our tumblrs:
> 
> musiclily
> 
> and
> 
> littlemisscraic


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